


Come Alive

by TheSonsofDurin



Series: Earth-97 [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: But there's still superheroes, Earth 97, Gen, He's a worse dick than in canon, Henry Allen died instead of Nora, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mostly villains though, Neither does the Flash, OR IS THERE, Reverse Flash doesn't exist, and literally I guess, everything is darker, metaphorically, no metahumans, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSonsofDurin/pseuds/TheSonsofDurin
Summary: Barry Allen is just a normal CSI who works at Central City Police Department. He has friends- sort of. He has family- definitely. And, well, he's only been mugged three times in the last month. So normal for someone living in Central City. Yep. He's totally normal.Or not.





	1. Chapter 1

Barry watches the news calmly, sipping his coffee. The events broadcasted on the television is in stark contrast to his demeanor- a 6-person homicide in a house in southern Central. The reporter talks loudly to be heard over the wind, holding her microphone with one hand and her hat with another.

“-cause of death is currently unknown, though a full investigation is underway.” The reporter finishes. Barry thinks her name is Linda Park, but he isn’t sure. He didn’t catch the beginning of the newscast.

Taking the last sip of his coffee, he rises from his couch. His apartment, tiny and dirty and really he’s in need of a new one, is cast in a mid morning light through the small window.

 _Wonder if I’ll have to help process the case?_ He wonders. _Although I doubt it because I wasn’t called to the scene._

Barry hums to himself as he continues getting ready for work- some song he heard on the radio the night before. Something about fireflies? He pulls on his jacket as he walks out his front door, locking it behind him with one hand. The gale takes his breath away.

The streets are full of people braving the wind, trying to get to their places and do their jobs. Bustling, rushing, curled against the wind. Barry takes his time. He lets the wind push him, guide him, Humming all the while. The sun is out today, too few clouds to create a cover. Despite the wind, it’s a good day. He embraces it.

The moment he steps into the police station he’s overwhelmed with noise.

“Allen, get to your lab. I need you to take the larceny case from Pritchard, he’s busy with the homicide that I’m sure you noticed while you were taking your time getting ready for work.” Captain Singh orders over the din. How he noticed Barry from the other side of the station, Barry has no idea. He hops up the steps cheerfully.

His lab is, surprise surprise, a mess. He knows where everything is, of course. It just isn’t in the same type of tip-top shape that most people like. He’s glad he doesn’t share the lab because honestly it would be sorry situation for the both of them.

He starts his work and forgets the rest of the world until his alarm goes off at precisely 5:45 P.M. to remind him of the rest of the world. Barry presents his completed case files to Captain Singh with a smile.

An hour later he finds himself wandering the streets with a newly full stomach. The wind lessened during the day, leaving a rather warm March night. His phone buzzes.

 **Hey, I know I promised to go to the bowling alley for your birthday but I just got an email saying I need to come in now for an interview for Central City Picture News if I even want a hope of getting a job there. You don’t mind if I bail, do you?** Iris texts.

 **Go ahead. This is your chance- I’ll have plenty of other birthdays.** He sends back.

**Thanks!! I’ll totally make it up to you tomorrow!**

Barry smiles- hopefully Iris rocks her interview. _Well, what do I do now?_

He glances around. There’s a gas station, a jewelry store, apartment buildings, and a bar. _Well it is my 21st birthday,_ he thinks. _Guess that’ll do._

Apparently he isn’t the only person who decided going to a bar is the thing to do tonight because the bar is packed full. He's been in bars before, illegally of course, and although he always chose ones that were busy he’s never seen one _this_ busy.

“What can I do for you?” The bartender asks as he sits at one of the bar stools.

“Hm," he says. “What do you suggest?” _Surprise me._

She smiles. “How about just a plain Budweiser?”

Barry grins back. “I can get that anytime. I was hoping for something that needs more effort.”

She laughs. “Ok, but I’m gonna have to ask for an ID. I don’t care about giving plain beer to underage people but anything else- well. I have to start caring _somewhere_.”

He pulls out his driver’s license as she readies whatever alcoholic beverage he’s going to be drinking.

“We call it the Chimaera.” She says and exchanges the drink for the ID. “And it’s a secret recipe so unless you can pull apart the flavors yourself you’re not hearing what’s in it.”

“Fair enough.” Barry says.

He sits at the bar for a while, sipping slowly at his drink. His legs swing lazily, knocking against the stool he sits on. The Chimaera is nice and alcoholic- if he hadn’t done so much underage drinking he’d definitely be drunk already, and he’s only about half finished.

Someone sits on the stool beside him. Barry glances over- oh. That guy is _hot_ . He has to be several years older than Barry, but. Jeez. He’s built like a fucking brick wall and he’s got the most gorgeous blue eyes Barry’s ever seen. They’re blue of course but- not a bright blue and not a gray-blue. Just _blue._ He looks back forward.

“Saw that.” Says the most beautiful voice Barry’s ever heard. It’s gruff and deep and God, he’s in love already or something. He looks back. The man’s staring at him.

“Hi.” Barry greets. “I’m Barry Allen.” He shoves his hand forward for a handshake.

The man raises an eyebrow. “Mick Rory.” He takes the offered hand. “Don’t got anyone to drink with you?”

Barry shrugs. “Nah. But that’s fine.” He makes finger guns.

Mick snorts. “So you’re just gonna spend your night alone in a bar? Could have drank in your own house.”

“My house is boring. This place is funner.” He spreads his arms. “Besides, it’s my birthday. I don’t want to spend it in my shitty apartment.”

Mick smirks. “I got a better way of spendin’ your night.” He looks Barry up and down. “Whadd’ya say- think we should get outta here?”

Barry matches Mick’s smirk. He leans forward so their faces are only a few inches apart. “As long as you promise to make it worth my while.”

The next thing he knows he’s being pulled out the door of the bar by one Mick Rory as traces of Avicii’s _Waiting For Love_ plays in the background.


	2. Chapter 2

Barry wakes to snoring. It’s not even _loud_  snoring. Just soft puffs of breath. He turns his head to look at the other occupant of the bed. Mick. The other man is laying on his back, spread across the bed with limbs going everywhere. His eyes are shut and his mouth is wide open and Barry finds the sight incredibly endearing. He yawns. He’d get up and get coffee except- he’s in Mick’s house and he really doesn’t want to go through the man’s stuff. He doesn’t even know his way around. Interior infrastructure and decorating was the last thing he was paying attention to the night before.

Mick puffs again. Barry feels his chest constrict. It’s just too damn cute. It doesn’t go at all with Mick’s hot-as-hell looks and bad-guy attitude.

Speaking of bad guy. Barry’s pretty sure he’s seen a missing car report on a truck exactly like the one Mick drove them from the bar with. He’s not going to say anything though. Stolen cars can get repaid by insurance for quite a lot, and the truck is pretty old. It’ll benefit everyone if the situation stays as it is.

He lays there for an undetermined amount of time, humming who-knows-what song as the sunlight coming through the windows grows stronger. Finally- never say Barry isn’t a patient person because he most certainly can be- Mick stirrs.

“Whadd’ya humming, Doll?” Mumbles Mick.

Barry smiles at the pet name. Oh, he will always see that word in a different light now. “No idea. I heard it on the radio sometime.”

“Well ya’ve got a pretty voice. Even after las’ night.”

“You’ve got a pretty addictive voice too.”

Mick chuckles. “Thanks Doll. Now how ‘bout I go make us some coffee?”

“Sounds great.”


	3. Chapter 3

Honestly Barry’s perfectly aware that technically he and Mick were supposed to have a one night stand. Perfectly aware. There’s just that little thing of _that night was awesome and Mick Rory is gorgeous_ that has him walking into the small mechanic shop in the poorer part of the richer slums of Central City (how convoluted).  
He walks through one of the open garage doors. There’s the usual smell of motor oil and gasoline, smoke and countless cleaning supplies that all mechanic shops have. Although Rory’s Repair Shop has another smell that he can’t quite place. The shop is devoid of human life except for a pair of legs sticking out from under a propped-up Cadillac. They’re too small to be Mick’s, though.

“Hello?” Barry says tentatively. He’s doubtful the mechanic heard him come in and he doesn’t want the man- or woman- to bang their head on the underside of the car when they jump in surprise.

The person rolls out from under the car. He’s young, younger than Barry- actually, he’s probably about Wally’s age. 16 maybe? “Uh, yeah, can I help you? I’m Jax.”

“I’m looking for Mick Rory..?” Barry offers.

Jax nods. “He’s out back. You want me to get him?”

Barry grins. “Yeah, that would be really helpful.”

“Be just a moment.” Jax stands, making his way to a door in the back of the shop. “Can I get your name? Mick probably won't come out if he doesn’t know you.”

“Barry. Barry Allen.”

Barry stands alone for a few moments, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He turns to the car. The Cadillac is a pretty red color- honestly he’s a little jealous of whoever owns it. He’s never found interest in owning a car, preferring to walk or run everywhere, but he can appreciate them sometimes.

He’s moved on to admiring the neighboring dark blue Toyota Camry when Jax returns with Mick following. He looks over and immediately has to school his features. Mick is just as hot as before, except now he’s covered in grease and other car liquids. Maybe he’s hotter than before, because Barry’s definitely finding that look captivating. “Hey!” He says, fighting to keep his voice from revealing his arousal.

Fuck, he was hoping to have a civil conversation. Now he can barely string a coherent thought together.

Fuck, Mick’s hot.

“Hey.” The mechanic greets back. “You have somethin’ to talk about?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. Except maybe it would be better to have it in  _ private _ ..?” Barry grins, tilting his head sideways ever so slightly.

Jax snorts. “Yeah, I’ll get out. I don’t want to hear anything you two have to talk about.” He turns and retreats through the back door, muttering something that sounds vaguely like  “and teenagers are the ones with raging hormones”.

Whatever. Barry’s more interested in Mick Rory’s face. “So anyway,” he starts. “The other night was nice- great actually- and coffee after was fun. I didn’t have to wear pants. You want to do it again sometime? Either, I mean. Or both. Both would be nice.”

For a moment Mick stares at him with a blank look on his face. It makes sense though because Barry just completely word vomited on him. “Sure.” He grunts finally.

“Sure what? Sure more sex or sure more coffee?” Barry asks. Mick has really blue eyes, he notices. _ Really _ blue.

“Both, doll.” Mick says, and he gets this grin on his face and suddenly Barry doesn’t know what’s hotter- the grease, the pet name, or the grin.

He can’t keep the grin off of his own face. “Really? You’re interested in  _ this _ ?” He poses in the most dramatic and ridiculous way he can. He gets a rush of butterflies in his stomach as Mick snorts.

“Hell yeah I am, doll.”

“So…” Barry says, unposing and sliding across the floor to press himself to Mick. “Are you free for coffee tonight? And more, hopefully, unless I’m called into work?”

Mick’s arm wraps around his waist and his thumb slides under Barry’s shirt and just  _ barely _ touches skin. It sends shockwaves through his body and he shivers despite the body heat radiating from the both of them.

“How about I tell Jax to go home early? I’ll close the garage doors, close up shop.” Mick murmurs. His voice is low and guttural and his breath is hot against Barry’s cheek. “And I’ll press you up against one of these cars…”

Barry blinks slowly. “As much as I love the idea I don’t really want to have sex against another person’s car.”

“Good thing the Cadillac’s mine then.” Mick says and captures Barry in a kiss before he can say anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

“There’s a perfectly good reason for all these kittens.” Barry says the moment his mom walks into the house. Her house, and Joe’s.

She raises an eyebrow. “There’s a perfectly good reason that you have at least twelve kittens in my house? Rather than your apartment?” She does nothing to hide the amusement in her voice.

“This place was closer to the SPCA.” He says. A small orange tabby crawls into his lap.

His mom laughs, removing her shoes and coat. “Fair enough. But you still need to explain why you have so many kittens.”

Barry sighs dramatically. “Well, Mick mentioned his shop had rats, so I figured that getting a cat  would be a good idea. In a turn of events the SPCA didn’t have any adult cats- only kittens. Fifteen of them, all found crammed in a cage on the side of the road about a week ago. So I was gonna get like three of them.” He shrugs. “Let three kittens equal one cat, right? But then I started looking at all of them and I couldn’t choose. I mean, they’re all so adorable.”

His mom crouches down to pet one of the kittens on the floor. It’s a tortoiseshell female. “Have you already named them all?”

“No.” He says. “You wanna help?”

His mom looks at him, small grin on her face. “Barry, you are always getting yourself into ridiculous problems like this. Joe and I honestly thought you’d grow out of it as you got older and yet you still manage to surprise me.”

“Kittens are my weakness.” He says helplessly.

An hour later Barry finds himself walking into Rory’s Repair Shop with a cat carrier in his hand. Music plays from a speaker in the corner- Eminem, maybe? Mick’s car is nowhere to be seen in the shop, and he assumes it’s finally gotten fixed up. Mick himself is leaning against one of the shelves of car parts, talking with Jax and another man in a blue parka. He makes his way over to them.

Parka Guy notices him first. He examines Barry’s face through narrow eyes before eying the cat carrier. “ _ Mick. _ ” He says in a drawl that has to come from the slums.

Mick follows Parka Guy’s gaze. He grins. “Barry.”

Barry will never get over hearing his name come from Mick’s mouth. “Hi Mick.” He matches his smile.

“Whats with the cat carrier, Scarlet?” Parka Guy asks. The nickname clearly comes from Barry’s red windbreaker.

“Dunno. What are cat carriers usually for?” Barry looks at Mick, fake confusion plastered on his face. “Definitely not for  _ carrying cats _ .”

Jax snorts. “Is it for the rats?”

“Not the carrier. The occupants, however- yes.” Barry hefts the carrier onto the top of the shelf and opens the door. “I went to the SPCA to get a cat- cats are good mousers, you know? But they only had kittens, so I figured that three kittens would equal one cat. Except I bought all fifteen kittens and the rest are currently at my mom’s.”

Mick wraps his arm around Barry’s waist. “I was jus’ gonna get some rat poison, Doll.”

“I know. Cats are better. They’re more than just rat catchers.” Barry pulls out the first- sleeping- kitten. “This one is Marshmallow, because of her one white toe on her backdrop of gray fur.” He hands her to Jax, who takes her eagerly. “And this one is Munchkin.” He pulls out a sphynx kitten. “Don’t hate her lack of fur, she can’t help it.”

“Reminds me of Mick.” Parka Guy says with a smirk.

Barry sets Munchkin in Mick’s free hand.

“Thanks, Lenny.” Mick grunts.

Barry pauses in his taking the third kitten out of the carrier. “ _ You’re _ Leonard?” He asks, looking at Parka Guy.

“Yes.” Comes the answer. “Mick talks about me, then?”

“Yep.” Barry says cheerfully. “Nice to meet you. You’re gonna love this next kitten.”

“Am I?” Leonard asks.

Barry pulls out the last kitten. “This is the SPCA’s ‘cat burglar’. He’s a Nebelung and his name is Ba’al. He got out of his cage about three times in the one week they had him and kept stealing all the cat toys.” 

“Still don’t know why I’m supposed to like him.” Leonard says.

“He’s high maintenance.” Barry says, thrusting Ba’al into the other man’s hands and turning to Mick. Not too fast to miss Leonard’s indignant expression, though.

“I’m not high maintenance!” Leonard squawks.

“You kind of are, Lenny.” Mick argues.

“No I’m not.” Leonard says, but there’s humor in his voice now. “Can’t believe you told your boyfriend that.”

Barry smiles into Mick’s neck as Jax laughs. “What are you going to do with the rest of the kittens, Barry?”

“I’m gonna try to convince my sister Iris to take one or two. Sophia has already attached herself to one of them- an orange tabby she named Anne. It’s gonna be hard to convince Joe, though I’m sure she’ll be able to.” Barry snorts, not removing his face from Mick’s neck. “I think Wally wants to keep the other orange one. He named him Cam.”

“Still leaves eight kittens you hafta take care of.” Mick says.

“Better for me to take care of them than the SPCA.” He says back.

“I’ll take one.” Leonard offers.

“I’ll talk to my parents about taking one. We don’t have a lot of money but cats can really cheer people up. Maybe Professor Stein will take one, too. He mentioned his anniversary was coming up.” Jax adds.

“Sounds good.” Barry looks over when he hears an indignant meow. Munchkin is apparently not having being in Mick’s hand. “You might want to let them get used to the house before introducing them to the shop. I’ll pay expenses.”

Mick sets Munchkin back in the cat carrier. “Nah, I got expenses. Thanks, doll.”

Barry grins. “Better than rat poison.” He glances around the shop. “Also, I had something else to talk about.”

“What’s that?” Mick asks.

“It’s Sophia’s seventh birthday on Friday. I wanted to introduce you to my family.” He looks Mick straight in the eyes. “ _ Please? _ ”

“Already?” Mick asks.

\ “We’ve been dating for two months. I’ve already told everyone who will listen about you. The party is the perfect place to introduce you- everyone important will be there, and Sophia doesn’t like all the attention anyway so she’ll be grateful to have you as a distraction.” Barry smiles hopefully, tilting his head so he’s looking as Mick through his eyelashes. “I’ve met your best friend. You need to meet my family.”

“Dunno.” Mick looks unsure. “I ain't exactly a people person.”

“I’ve known you since I was nine, Mick. I was never intimidated by you.” Jax says.

“You were a weird kid, Jax. You don’t count.” Leonard says back.

“I’m still a kid. Sixteen year olds are kids.”

“Will you two shut up?” Mick grumbles. “I’m trying to think.”

Barry snorts. “Not much to think about. Look, everything will be fine. I promise.”

Mick grimaces. “Fine, but if your stepdad arrests me for somethin’ he don’t like about me you gotta break me out.”

“He won’t arrest you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Barry tries to ignore the anger simmering beneath his skin, boiling in his stomach, as he walks up the steps to his mom’s and Joe’s house. He doesn’t even reach the front door before it’s flung open and Sophia throws her seven year old self at him, full strength. It lessens the anger slightly.

“Hey, little sis. Happy birthday” He greets. He keeps his voice cheerful- he doesn’t need to push his problems onto a seven year old.

“Barry!” Sophia shouts, lifting her head from his stomach. “Did you bring me presents?”

He lifts his arm, which is obviously holding three plastic bags worth of presents. “I don’t know, did I?”

Sophia giggles. “Alright. I wanna take them in!” Without waiting for his answer she peels herself off from him and grabs the bags from his arm. Barry watches amused as she struggles to carry them inside.

Wally appears in the doorway. He smiles at Barry. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Barry walks in and closes the door behind him. Already the party is in full swing. Some of Sophia’s friends run around swinging toy light sabers while others hold Nerf guns and hide behind various pieces of furniture. _That’s cute._

It still doesn’t make him forget about his anger.

“I thought you were bringing your boyfriend to introduce?” Wally asks.

The boiling in his stomach solidifies into a stone. He clenches his fists and then releases them. Then he looks over at his brother and smiles. It’s probably not the best smile, but he can hope. “Something came up. He couldn’t come.”

Wally looks unsure. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your fists, Barry,” he says, keeping his voice low enough not to be heard by one of the many children infesting the house. “It’s more than that, we both know. But I won't bug you for the truth.” He looks at the children. “You want to help me keep the kids out of the kitchen? Dad accidentally messed up the cake and so Iris and Mom are doing damage control. I need to make sure none of the kids interrupt them. Especially Sophia.”

“Well, I can’t make cake so I guess you have a partner.” Barry crosses his arms. “Although they seem pretty busy playing Star Wars.”

Wally laughs. “Yeah, and ten minutes ago all sixteen of them were quietly watching cartoons. They’re kids. They change their minds a lot.”

_Like Mick, apparently._ Barry thinks. “Well, I’ll go take guard duty by the kitchen door. Make sure none of them run through the makeshift curtain.”

He spends the next hour redirecting excited kids and occasionally checking progress on the cake. When Wally mentioned Joe ‘messed up’ the cake, Barry figured he meant the frosting needed to be redone. No, Joe had managed to _throw the cake at the ceiling._ How, Barry wasn’t sure. He didn’t really feel like asking. But he did notice the blue frosting stain on the ceiling, and the fact that a whole new cake was being made was pretty convincing. Although why Sophia wanted a ‘Megamind cake’ in the first place Barry would never know. She’s probably the only kid her age who watched the movie. The cake _is_ impressive though. At least, the part of it that’s been remade. He had no idea Iris was so good at sculpting things out of fondant.

* * *

 

Another hour later the cake is finally finished. The kids calm down easily and crowd around the table for cake and ice cream. They’re surprisingly calm about the whole thing despite the long wait.

Iris stands beside him while they wait for all the kids to be served to get their own. “I wish your boyfriend had been able to come. Wally told me something came up?”

Barry sighs. “Yeah.”

“You want to talk about what happened?” Iris asks. She looks at him with worry on her face. Clearly Wally told her about his anger, too.

“Not right now.” He looks at Sophia. “I really don’t want to ruin her birthday party.”

“Fair enough. Should I go talk some sense into your boyfriend later?” Iris cracks her knuckles.

Barry appreciates her attempt at cheering him up. “Maybe. Then again I don’t know if we’re even still dating.” The rock in his stomach liquefies again, though this time it’s more like red-hot magma than boiling water.

“It’s that bad?” Iris breathes. “Does he know you’re that angry?”

“I’m sure he does. I might have thrown some stuff.” He rolls his shoulders.

She rests her hand on his shoulder. “Alright. Later, you’re going to tell me the full story of what happened and then you and I are going to go talk to your boyfriend.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes we do.”

* * *

 

“So I went to Mick’s house earlier because we were going to come here in his Cadillac. Except when he answered the door he wouldn’t even look at me so I asked him if he was ready to go,” Barry starts. “but he told me he wasn’t going, so I obviously asked why and he just said he wasn’t coming.”

“Did he tell you why he wasn’t going anymore?” Iris asks. She’s sitting criss-cross beside him on his couch.

“He didn’t want to, he said. And I get it I guess because he didn’t really want to go when he first agreed, but I’ve been talking about it all week and I’ve been really excited.” Barry looks at the blank television. “I know my anger issues make me overreact to things but I just- he _knew_ I was excited to have him meet all of you. I’ve already met his best friend Leonard and Leonard’s sister Lisa when I gave them kittens, and friends are the closest to family he has so I’ve basically already met his family.”

“You told him how you feel about this right? You didn’t just yell at him?”

“I _tried_. He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. He just kept saying he wasn’t coming, he was sorry, I should get going.” Barry takes a deep breath, trying to keep the crimson on the corner of his vision from completely encasing it. “He promised.”

Iris makes a noise of sympathy. “Barry, you have to remember that just because you don’t feel fear doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t. I guarantee you that he was nervous about meeting us and it got the best of him. If he wouldn’t look into your eyes then he clearly felt- and probably still feels- bad.”

Barry clenches his jaw.

“Look, let’s head over to his house, okay? I’ll be the mediator. I’ll make sure you’re feelings are clear and I’ll make sure his reasons are clear. You two can talk this out. If you two really feel strongly about each other you’ll get through this, alright?” Iris pats his shoulder. “Let’s go. Get in my car.”

Barry shoves his fists into his jacket as he follows Iris out the door. He doesn’t bother locking it- if anyone really wanted to rob him they’d manage it whether his door was locked or not.

He only talks during the ride to give directions. The sun is setting, casting everything in shadow and only helping to worsen his mood. He stares out the window the entire drive. The closer they get to Mick’s house the worse the thunder in his ears gets. The crimson creeps closer to overtaking his sight. In his pockets his fists are so tight that his nails threaten to break skin.

Barry swallows. “Do you think I overreacted?” He whispers. It was either that or screaming.

“Maybe a little. But I get why you’re angry. You two are going to talk and I’m going to make sure you two don’t kill each other or let things be unsaid. But you both need to be completely truthful and forthcoming.” Iris says.

“What if he’s busy and can’t talk?”

“Well if he’s busy with a person than that person can leave. If he’s cooking or something then I’ll take care of it. You two need to talk. Do I turn here?”

“Yeah.”

When they pull up to Rory’s Repair Shop (and Mick’s apartment above it), Barry slams his fist into the window. He closes his eyes, counts to ten, and then opens the door and lurches out of the car. Iris follows much more slowly.

“Ready?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just to clear some things up- in this story/Earth Francine West stayed with Joe until Wally was born and then left. That's why Wally is around despite this being 2010. Wally considers Nora to be his mom because he never knew Francine, and Sophia is the (biological) daughter of Joe and Nora.  
> Also, the cake I imagine being heavily covered in fondant with a fondant figure of Megamind- i.e the main character in one of the best superhero movies ever for those who haven't heard of it.


	6. Chapter 6

Iris knocks on the front door to Mick’s house. That’s a good idea, because Barry probably would have hit it hard enough to smash a hole in it. Barry glares at the door, just waiting for Mick to open it and see his wrath.

“Calm down on the death glare, Barry. We’re trying to be civil.” Iris says. 

“I’m not.” He mutters.

“Yes you are-” Whatever Iris was going to say next gets left unsaid when the door opens.

Light floods onto the short stairway before the door, despite the door only being open a third of the way with Mick blocking most of it. For a moment they all stare at each other in silence.

Mick looks- annoyed. Tired. With creases in his forehead and bags under his eyes. Barry’s seen Mick in a bad mood before, when clients bring in their cars and then get annoyed with the service for one reason or another (typical customer service problems, of course). This is different, though. Barry can see the tension in his body, the scowl wanting to form on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” Mick asks, finally breaking the silence. His voice is low.

“We need to talk. Again.” Barry says. He tries to keep malice out of his voice.

Mick glances at Iris. “Look, we can’t talk right now. I’m busy.”

“Well, it’s been all day, what’s taking so long that you had to miss my sister’s birthday party?” Okay, Barry failed at keeping malice out of his voice.

Beside him, Iris crosses her arms. “And wouldn’t even say what it is?”

Before Mick can answer a shadow blocks most of the remaining light. The door opens more and a woman stops beside Mick. “Who are these people, Mickey?” She asks, voice high-pitched and pretentious sounding.

Barry swallows. He really hopes this isn’t what he thinks it is but, whatever. He rolls his shoulders and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Just friends, Constance. Didn’t pay my phone bill for the month so they couldn’t call. Go back inside.” Mick says. He seems more annoyed.

Constance looks at them. Eyebrows raised, she looks Iris up and down, and then him. She frowns her lipstick-caked lips. “No, I think I’ll stay. Any friend of my  _ boyfriend  _ is a friend of mine, after all.”

Barry has never wanted to punch anyone more. And he’s not even sure who he wants to punch- Constance, in all her hideous blondeness- Mick, for  _ cheating  _ on him- or Iris, for convincing him to come here and talk it out. “We were just leaving, actually.” He grits out, then turns and stomps down the metal stairs. He slams the car’s door for good measure and sits, fuming, in the passenger seat.

He doesn’t look over when Iris sits beside him in the driver’s seat. Not when she sighs and that’s it, she doesn’t turn the car on, doesn’t do anything so that means she’s looking a him and he does  _ not  _ want her pity.

“Bring me home.” Barry growls.

“Barry-”

_ “Bring me home.” _

“Alright.” The car starts up.

* * *

 

Barry lies in his bed, glaring at the ceiling. He can hardly see it of course, with all of the lights off and curtains covering the windows. He glares at it all the same. He want’s to punch something. He  _ did  _ punch something. He’ll have to hire a carpenter because there’s a foot wide hole in his living room wall and his landlord will not be pleased if he finds out.

Beside him one of his five kittens, Saffron, nuzzles his side. Saffron is the only kitten who was apparently not put off by his bad mood; rather, she felt the need to make him feel better through cuddling. He appreciates the effort. It didn’t work. 

His cellphone rings. He scowls at it lethargically. “Shut up.” He mutters.

Obviously it doesn’t listen. The ringing runs through, and the room is plunged into silence once again. Barry returns to glaring at the ceiling.

The phone rings again. This time he scowls at the phone full force, as if it’s the phone’s fault someone is trying to call him. He waits until the ringtone runs through again.

He sighs. “You think I was cheated on or I was the one he was cheating with, Saf?” He asks. He doesn’t expect the kitten to answer, and she doesn’t. She doesn’t even move.

The phone rings  _ again _ . He shoots his hand out the grab his phone from the bedstand and reads the caller ID. 

Mick, it says, with a heart emoji next to it. “God  _ damnit!” _ He snarls and hurls his phone across the room. It hits the wall with a thud and more than one thing hits the floor. He runs his hands through his hair. Saffron mews and crawls onto his chest, purring.

“Why the hell would that bastard want to talk to me? Tell me he’s sorry? He didn’t want me to find out? He wants to work through this?” He mutters to Saffron. “He can go to hell. He can fucking go to hell.”

He doesn’t sleep well that night. Actually, he doesn’t sleep at all. The rest of the kittens apparently deem it safe because they all slowly trickle into the room until he’s got Saffron, Faron, Reeses, Sweetheart, and Worm all cuddled up to him, keeping him warm where the blankets he’s laying on can’t.

When sunlight is shining through his window like the sun is right outside, he finally gets up to start his day.

He’s never felt so horrible in his life.


	7. Chapter 7

The street is quiet as Barry trudges down it. It’s dusk, an easy reason for the silence. Most people still out and about are hurrying with as much speed as they can. Not Barry. He doesn’t have the energy, nor the will. So he walks down the street slowly but steadily with hardly the energy to do it. He wonders if it’s normal that it’s been three weeks and he’s still upset about Mick’s cheating.

He hears the click of a gun behind him. Something cold touches the back of his neck.  _ Of course, _ he thinks.  _ Just the icing on the cake.  _ He turns around slowly, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets. 

And comes face to face with a girl who can’t be older than fifteen. She stares at him, determination displayed on her face. Of course, with how much her hand is shaking, Barry isn’t all that intimidated. “Give me your wallet.” She says. Her voice is emotionless.

“Kid, I had my wallet stolen last week. I don’t have anything to give you.” Barry says. He actually feels sort of sorry for her, because if a girl this young is trying to mug him she must really be desperate. 

She frowns. “Well, you have to have something of worth with you. Give it to me.”

Barry sighs and takes his hand out of his jacket pocket to reach into his pants pocket. He pulls out a twenty. “Here. This is all I have.”

She takes the twenty quickly and shoves it into her own pocket. “You don’t have anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Then...give me your jacket.” The girl brushes a bit of brown hair out of her face.

“My jacket?” He asks.  _ You’ve gotta be kidding me.  _ “It’s pretty old.”

“I don’t care, give it to me.”

He shrugs off his jacket and hands it over. For a moment they stare at each other. Then, slowly, she lowers the gun and begins running the opposite direction.

“You know, kid, there are better ways than that.” He shouts after her. Her steps falter, slowing down, and then pick up again. He watches until she disappears around the corner.

Then he turns around and continues walking towards home. “Great,” he mutters to himself. “Now I have no money for the next two weeks.”

Saffron meets him at the front door. She weaves herself between his legs, meowing. 

“Hungry?” Barry asks. She meows in answer. “Alright, let’s go feed you guys.” He walks through the living room as Saffron tries her hardest to trip him up.

However, the moment he walks into his kitchen all amusement over Saffron disappears. Lisa Snart, who he met when she and her brother came to choose kittens weeks ago, is sitting at his kitchen table. Faron, Sweetheart, Worm, and Reeses surround her chair, doing nothing but sitting. Lisa’s own kitten, an Abyssinian named Sheba, sits in her lap, purring. 

“What are you doing in my house?” Barry growls.

Lisa tilts her head. “Honestly? Lenny’s in a bad mood and won’t stop complaining to me. So I figured I’d come visit.”

“You figured you visit me? Why not your brother?” Barry crosses his arms.

“Because my brother is in a bad mood because of Mick, and Mick is in a bad mood because his bitchy ex girlfriend thrust herself back into his life and now you want nothing to do with him.” Lisa grimaces. “It’s convoluted, I know. But the thing is, you’re mad because you think he’s cheating on you-”

“You mean he’s not?” Barry asks, skeptical.

Lisa shakes her head. “No, he’s not. Constance and Mick dated about nine years ago. At least that’s when they broke up. She was a bitch and still is, unfortunately. And completely psychotic and possessive. And now she’s back.”

“If they aren’t dating why did she say they were?” He asks. As much as he’d like to believe what Lisa is saying he isn’t just going to get rid of all suspicion.

“Like I said, she’s a psycho. Straight-up manipulative. Possessive. I didn’t really get to know her much the first time around because she’s absolutely repulsive to be around. I have heard enough from Lenny and Mick, though. Apparently when they were together Constance got pregnant but claimed the baby died in childbirth. Instead she just gave the baby to her sister to raise. Then when they finally broke up- guess what? She was pregnant  _ again _ , but she’d never gotten the chance to tell Mick.” 

“And this is important  _ because _ ?” Barry grumbles.

“ _ Because _ ,” Lisa says, waving her hands dramatically. “Now she’s back and wants to get together for their kids. At least that’s what she’s saying. She probably just wants someone else to manipulate. And Mick didn’t want to tell you she was around because he didn’t want her to find out about  _ you _ , because she’s definitely the stalking type.”

“Why are you telling me this instead of Mick, exactly?” Barry asks.

“Well I’m sure Mick would just  _ love  _ to explain everything to you but Lenny says he can barely get time alone in his own house, let alone time alone with you. And, once again, she  _ will  _ stalk you if she thinks you’re competition. So I figured I’d at least do something to help one person stuck in this conundrum. Which is you. Because I can’t really stop Lenny from complaining to me. And Lenny  _ will  _ complain to me as long as Constance is around. So, at least you can sleep a bit better at night, right?” 

Barry swallows. Slowly he walks over and takes a seat in the chair next to Lisa. “Can you… say that again? Less confusing this time.”

Lisa grins. “So, Constance and Mick dated and broke up about nine years ago. Constance, for whatever reason, told Mick that their child died in childbirth when she actually gave the kid to her sister to take care of. Then when they broke up Constance was pregnant again but Mick didn’t know that. Remember, Constance is literally the Girlfriend From Hell. Now she’s back, she wants to get together with Mick ‘for their children’. Mick doesn’t want her to know you two are-were? Dating, because she will stalk you and probably threaten you. So he didn’t want you to know about  _ her _ , apparently, according to Lenny. Except you showed up and met her and now you think Mick is cheating, because Constance insists  _ they  _ are dating, but if it was up to Mick she would be nowhere near him.”

“Why doesn’t Mick just get a restraining order?” Barry interjects.

“Because of the kids, apparently. They’re stuck in the middle too, you know. Of course, keep in mind that everything I know about what’s going on now comes from Lenny complaining.” Lisa shrugs. In her lap Sheba meows. “But anyway, now I’m going to go tell Lenny to tell Mick- somehow- that you know Mick isn’t cheating on you. Wasn’t cheating on you. Whatever. He can at least take a little joy in that.”

“I want to help Mick.” Barry says, determined.

“I think you should stay out of this.”

“I’m already in it!” Barry says, exasperated. “If you’re telling the truth then I don’t want to just sit in the sidelines. Or give up ever being with Mick again.”

“I’m telling you, Constance is not someone you want to have on your bad side. She’s already got you in her mind because you showed up at Mick’s. If she thinks you’re going to take Mick away from her she will have  _ no  _ mercy.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “Honestly the only thing that keeps her from going after me is the fact that I convinced her I’m a lesbian. It helps that I actually have a girlfriend at the moment and before I was a little too young to be considered competition.” She snorts. “Of course I hope she doesn’t find out that I have a boyfriend too because then she’ll be suspicious.”

“You have a girlfriend and a boyfriend?” Barry asks, curious.

“Yep. And don’t worry, we’re all dating each other, no cheating going on. Bisexual and polyamorous.” She bats her eyelashes. “And Constance is only allowed to know about my girlfriend.”

Barry sighs. “Okay. I need you to tell me everything you know about Constance.”


	8. Chapter 8

In the next month, Barry prepares a plan. A plan to help Mick, to get him back, hopefully without destroying the lives of he and Constance’s kids. He hardly sleeps, to be honest. And if anyone had walked into his living room they would have decided he was going to commit robbery, because of all the blueprints and note sheets scattered around. Lisa helps. Apparently she’s the only person close to Mick not on Constance’s Suspicious List. According to Lisa, even Jax is on the list, though nobody knows why.

But he has a plan. Probably not the best plan. Plenty could go wrong. He and Lisa could have misjudged Constance and Mick’s kids (Georgie and Charlie). Constance could simply go  _ more  _ crazy than before. But as Barry watches the news on a Sunday morning, he’s hopeful.

He takes out his cell phone and calls Mick’s number. It rings for a few moments, before a familiar shrill voice answers. “Who is this?”

Barry smiles even though he’s the only one around to see it. “My name’s Barry. I’m assuming you’re Constance. We met a while back? Briefly, I mean.”

“Are you that sullen little wretch that showed up at our house in the middle of the night?” Constance asks. Barry already wants to pound her arrogant face into the concrete.

“It was only dusk, not the middle of the night.” He corrects, keeping his voice as composed and nonchalant as he can.

“Whatever. What do you want? Mick said you were a customer. Why do you have his phone number?” She fires off questions quickly.

“I have his phone number because that was the number he gave me originally to contact him. And I was only wondering if I could talk to him, honestly. Is he around?” Barry asks.

“No, he’s not. I’ll take a message though. Better yet, let’s meet in person. Jitters, thirty minutes.” Constance hangs up the phone before Barry can say anything else.

Putting his cell away, Barry grins. Everything is going according to plan. It’s a good start.

* * *

 

Walking into Jitters, Barry immediately notices Constance, who’s set herself up at a table in the middle of the coffee shop. Noticing only one cup at the table (and with obvious lipstick marks all over the rim) he steps into the line to get himself something. As he gazes up at the menu board he can still see Constance out of the corner of his eye, and he has to fight to keep a grin off his face as she scowls.

At least the line moves quickly. Within ten minutes he’s sitting at the table across from Constance. “I like your dress.” He compliments. He doesn’t, not really, but he’s trying to be nice. The dress is an ugly red color with the shoulders being fluffed up like Cinderella’s dress. It would look ridiculous at a costume party let alone in general public in 2010. 

Constance doesn’t reply to his compliment. “Why are you so interested in my  fiancé?” She growls.

Barry pauses. “I’m not?” He lies. “My car needs to be fixed again is all.”

She rolls her eyes. Barry could put eyeshadow on better than her (and he definitely wouldn’t use that shade of red). “Yeah, I doubt that. He has a work phone. He wouldn’t have given you his  _ personal  _ phone. You know, if you’re trying to get into his pants-”

“-I’m not” He is.

“He’s already taken, you snoutband.” 

“Snoutband?” He’s never heard that insult before but now he’s kind of interested.

“And you can’t have him. I won’t let you make a bedswerver out of him and ruin our children’s lives, you hear me?” Constance takes a sip of her drink. “A fopdoodle like you could never achieve that anyway, but you need to stop trying before I decide to call the police on you.”

Barry blinks. He’s pretty sure things are going as planned, but he has absolutely no idea what a snoutband, bedswerver, and fopdoodle are. “Well considering I work with the police as a CSI I don’t think you’ll have much luck convincing them of anything negative about me. However-”

“You think you’re better than me?” Constance snarls. Barry didn’t think her voice could get any higher pitched but boy was he wrong. “You think you can call me a gashnab? A whiffle-whaffle like you? You’re just a gentleman of four oats- you don’t deserve to be anywhere near my Mickey! No, you’re just a gobermouch. Stay in your own business!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.” Barry says flatly. “And I think you should calm down-” After all, people are starting to take notice of them.

“Me? Calm down? You’re the rattle cap!” She stands, looking around the coffee shop. With a huff of breath she glares down at him. “Stay away from my family!” Then she stomps out of Jitters.

Barry takes a sip of his coffee to disguise his grin. Yeah, that definitely went well. Whether or not he knows what all of her insults mean he knows they  _ are  _ insults, and plenty of people just saw one Constance Ritchett freak out in the middle of a coffee shop.  _ I’m totally looking up all of those words later, though _ , He thinks.

He pulls out his phone. “Did you get all of that?” He turns off speaker phone and asks Lisa, waiting on the other end of the line.

“Oh, yeah. She pulled out some new insults, too. I’ve never heard of a rattle cap before. Or a gashnab. What do you think a gentleman of four oats is?” Lisa doesn’t hide the amusement in her voice.

“No idea. Sounds kind of like another word for idiot. I’m looking them up later.” Barry stands, grabbing his coffee (he’s glad he got it to go). “When you told me she used weird insults I thought you meant things like ‘stale cheeto’. Ready for stage two?”

She laughs “Give me a few minutes. I already emailed the audio recording to my boyfriend, I’m just waiting on his reply. And honestly, when it comes to Constance you always have to expect the worst.”

“Guess so. Man, I wish I had a way to get a picture of her dress. It was ugly. Straight out of Kitchen Nightmares, but for dresses.” He steps onto the sidewalk in front of Jitters.

“So basically a fashion magazine, on the section where it bashes outfits and gives tips on how not to dress terribly.”

“Basically.” Barry sucks in a breath as a warm gust of wind blows into his face. “So, since I’m definitely now on her radar, the next few parts are up to you and your partners.”

“And you’ll be lying low until we give you the thumbs up.” Lisa continues. “Just act normal. Go to work, go visit family, et cetera et cetera et cetera. Oh, maybe get a fake girlfriend or boyfriend to confuse her- you mentioned a lab partner?”

“Technically Quincy Pritchard is my superior, and he doesn’t work in the same lab as me. His lab is down the hall.” Barry shoves his free hand in his pocket.

“But could you convince him to be your fake boyfriend?” Lisa asks.

“As easily as I could convince Iris to be my fake girlfriend.” Barry shakes his head, mostly for his own benefit.

Lisa makes a clicking sound. “Okay, so that’s a no. Do you have any friends..?”

“No.”

“What about any police officers your age?”

“No, but there will be a few transfers coming from Keystone in about a week. Maybe I’ll have luck with one of them. Although then again maybe me getting a ‘partner’ will ruin our plan.”

“I doubt it. Look, even if you decide you won’t get anyone else into this whole thing I do suggest you get some more friends. One friend is not enough.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “I’m assuming you’re my one friend?”

“Yep. And even if you meet my boyfriend and girlfriend and hit it off with them that’s only three friends. You need at least one more that you  _ aren’t  _ related to, and aren’t connected to Mick in some way, you got it? Make a new friend, you hikikomori!” Lisa laughs.

“What is a hikikomori?” Barry says with a snort.

“Basically it’s a hermit in Japan. Like, extreme hermit. Feels like something Constance would say.”

“I’m not that much of a recluse!” He protests.

“Talk to you later, Barry.” Lisa hangs up.

Barry shakes his head, amused. 


	9. Chapter 9

“You seem happier lately.” Iris remarks the moment the two of them sit at a table in Big Belly Burger.

Barry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you asked me to have lunch with you on my break today? I thought you just wanted to have some brother-sister bonding.”

“I do. By talking about how you’re happy lately. For a while there you were really sad all the time- and I get it, I do, with Mick cheating on you- but about a month ago you started acting normal again.” Iris takes her burger from the tray. “I guess I just want to get the scoop, you know?”

He smiles. “Your reporter side is showing.”

“So? I want to know, Barry. You were really broken up about Mick.”

He shrugs. “Honestly, everything’s going alright, okay? I’m good. I mean, I still hate Constance with all my heart but. I’m good.”

Iris narrows her eyes. “Barry. You never get over things like that. Sadness, I mean. Betrayal. There’s no way you’re all good.”

“I am. Really.” Barry says. “I-” He freezes.  _ Of course. Of fucking course. _

In walks Constance, followed by two children- one about 13 and the other about 9. And, of course, Constance immediately zeroes in on him like a bloodhound following a trail. She stalks across the restaurant while her kids follow hesitantly.

“Shit.” He hisses. “Act polite.”

“Wait, what?” Iris asks.

He’s saved from answering when Constance stops at their table and puts her hands on her hips. “Well, it’s certainly  _ odd  _ to see you here.” She remarks shrilly.

“This is the closest Big Belly Burger to my work.” Barry says. “And I’m having lunch with my sister.”

“You don’t look like siblings.” Constance tilts her head as if looking at them sideways will make them look more alike.

“Yeah, well, our parents got together when we were young. We grew up together.” Iris answers. She stands, holding her hand out. “My name is Iris. It’s nice to meet you.”

Constance looks at the offered hand and tilts her nose up. “We’ve already met. The same night Barry Allen showed up at my Mickey’s house.”

“Right.” Iris sits down again. “Was there something you needed?”

“Only to see why you’re stalking me.”

Barry sighs. He looks at his food.

“Stalking you?” Iris blurts. “We aren’t stalking you.”

“Oh, please. You expect me to believe you, a hedge creeper? I’ll talk to a gibface before I’d believe anything you have to say.”

Iris glances over to him, confusion and shock written on her face. He looks back at her tiredly. “I have absolutely no idea what you just called me.” Iris starts. “But I can tell you’re trying to badmouth me. Look, I haven’t done anything to you so you’d better stop whatever it is you’re doing or else I  _ will  _ bring the police into this.”

His heart stops.  _ Shit. She can’t do that! _ He kicks her under the table. She flinches in a barely noticeable way but doesn’t say anything.

“Can we not do this here?” Barry says. “You have your children with you. Iris hasn’t done anything.”  _ Neither have I. _ “I just want to have lunch before I have to get back to work.”  _ Too late.  _

Constance sneers. “Don’t think I’m going to fall for that. And it isn’t my fault you’re such a whiffle-whaffle.” She huffs and stalks away.

Her daughters, who’d been standing a few feet behind her, give them sad, embarrassed smiles. The older one tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry. Nobody knows what mom means when she says those things.” The younger one nods enthusiastically. Then they follow their mother to the front.

Iris looks at him. “Well that happened.”

He laughs. “Yep.”

“Why did you kick me?” Iris grabs a fry and then drops it. “Cold.” She says sadly.

He grimaces. “Look, you can’t tell Joe. Or anyone that works with the police force.”

“When that blonde- haired bitch is insulting me for no reason I can get a restraining order no problem.” Iris shoots back.

“I just mean-” Barry shakes his head. “Look, Mick isn’t cheating on me. No voluntarily, at least. Constance is crazy, insists they’re dating even though they haven’t seen each other in nine years. Mick can’t do much of anything against her without setting her on a warpath against the people he’s close to- his friend Leonard, and Leonard’s sister Lisa, and the teenager that works at Mick’s shop, Jax. She’ll straight up stalk them. And those girls, Georgie and Charlie, he doesn’t want to ruin their lives, either.”

Iris blinks. “Okay… so we’ll get dad to do something.”

“No!” He leans forward, careful to keep his voice quiet enough that the (most certainly) eavesdropping blond in the restaurant won’t hear their conversation. “I have a plan. But I can’t let the police get involved.”  _ At least not yet _ . “Everything should work out perfectly if my plan doesn’t get interrupted.”

“Fine.” Iris stands, putting her hardly-eaten lunch back onto the tray to be dumped. “So, do you have any idea what her insults mean?”

He laughs. “Yeah, but only after looking them up. We already talked a few days ago, and I got called a wide array of things. For example, a whiffle-whaffle is someone who wastes a lot of time. We’ll have to look up hedge creeper though.”

“And gibface.” Iris adds. 

“Definitely gibface.”

He glances at Constance as he and Iris leave. She glares at them. To be honest he knows the exact feeling portrayed on her face, mostly because he wants to direct the same towards her. Instead he faces forward and walks out the door beside his sister. “By the way, Iris, you might not want to mention this with anyone? Especially not Joe.”

“Is this because your plan will end with her seeming like a raging psychopath and in jail?” Iris raises an eyebrow.

“Well, she is a raging psychopath. But she should end up in prison if all goes well, so.” Barry smiles timidly.

She snorts. “Yeah, don’t tell me any more. I want as little to do with this as I can.”

“That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you.” He looks up at the sky. “Well. Sorry for ruining lunch.”

“It’s fine. I expected dinner, I got a show.” She grins. “I wonder if she intentionally uses weird insults to further confuse people or if she’s just like that?” 

“I think that’s just how she is. She called me a snoutband the other day. It means someone who interrupts conversations to correct or contradict what’s being said.” Barry tilts his head. “Honestly if anyone’s the snoutband it’s her.”

Iris laughs.


	10. Chapter 10

Barry’s been at work for approximately six hours, and he’s been busy with a massacre case (half of which went to other CSIs)- another ‘cleansing’ from the Crimson Scar Brotherhood- all day. Most of the work is simply identifying the bodies and identifying those who were recruited into the cult. Forcibly. Of course since the massacre took place at a bar, where there isn’t a list of the people who were there, figuring out who was recruited is difficult.

And naturally that’s when somebody decides to call him. He sets down his tweezers, which are holding a bloody cobweb, and takes it from his pocket. An unfamiliar number is across the screen, with an area code definitely not from Central City. He sighs.  _ Why now? _

“Hello?” He asks, bringing his phone to his face.

“I got your number from Mickey’s phone.” Constance answers. “Kind of weird that a couple of acquaintances have each other’s numbers saved in their phones.”

“Not really.” Barry says flatly. “Is there a reason you’re calling me?”  _ I know why you’re calling me. _ He thinks.  _ And it couldn’t be at a worse time. _

“I find it rather odd that you gave my Mickey a couple of kittens when you aren’t even friends.” Constance says.

“Well,” Barry starts. “We’ve known each other for a while. He fixes my car, as well as my sister’s. If I can trust him with my car then I can trust him with a few kittens.”

Constance snorts. “Please. You gave him kittens so he would cheat on me with you.”

_ Lady, I didn’t even know you existed when I gave him Munchkin, Ba’al, and Marshmallow.  _ “I gave him kittens because I had some that needed homes. And he had a rat problem.”

“Lies!” Barry tears the phone from his ear, which is already ringing. 

“No, not really. I gave a lot of people kittens. Lisa, Jax, Jax’s neighbor, most the people in my family-”

“Liar!” Constance screeches again.

“Right.” Barry says sarcastically. “I gave Mick kittens to seduce him. I also gave kittens to a sixteen year old, and said sixteen year old’s sixty year old neighbor, a lesbian already in a relationship, and all three of my siblings, two of which are underage, to seduce them.”

“I wouldn’t put it past a coxcomb to do that.”

“I don’t even know what a coxcomb is.” Barry says with a sigh.

“Well then perhaps you should pay less attention to my boyfriend and more attention to getting an education! You’d be less of a dandiprat if you’d actually paid attention in school.” Constance says. “Now, you listen here. You stay away from my family. If my little girls hadn’t already fallen in love with those kittens I would put them in a bad and throw them in the bay. But hopefully they can be cleansed of your  _ stink _ . And they  _ are  _ getting renamed. Lisa said you named them and we can’t possibly have that. I always thought they were horrible names, anyway. Who would even name their cat Bail, anyway? Well, you would, and it’s a horrible name.”

“The name means lord, and it was often applied to gods.” Barry interjects.

“So name it Lord, or God. Besides, Bail most certainly does not mean lord. It means-”

“I know what Bail means. Ba’al is another language.”

“Don’t interrupt me!” Constance snaps.

He’s about to say something back- something that would probably (hopefully) make her

more angry- but someone behind him clears their throat.

“Mr. Allen.”

Barry turns sheepishly to look at his boss. “Hi…” He says weakly. He puts his phone in his lap. “Can I help you..?”

“If you would stay off your phone and do your work, you would be helping me.” Captain Singh says, visibly annoyed.

“Right.” He mutters. He puts the phone up to his ear, where Constance is on some sort of rant about him and clearly hasn’t noticed he isn’t listening. “I have to go. Boss is waiting.” Then he hangs up before she can spew something else at him.

“Do you often take calls in the middle of the workday?” Captain Singh asks.

Barry grimaces. “Usually only when it’s a slow day.” He doubts his boss would accept a  _ never _ , considering he just walked in on Barry seemingly chatting casually on his cell.

Singh sighs, crossing his arms. “How far are you on the Brotherhood case?”

“Well, I’ve mostly gotten through my assigned work. I just have a few more blood samples to check.” His phone rings. He stops the call. “And I’ve separated the case files- one pile is all the people I’ve been able to identify as dead, including all blood samples I have that belong to them. The other pile is blood samples I haven’t been able to match. I’m going to send them to Pritchard when I get the last of these done.”

“Good.” Captain Singh says. “But I need you to give everything to Pritchard, including what you haven’t completed yet.”

“What? Why?” Barry asks, probably with less tact than he should have used. “...Captain.”

His phone rings again. He stops it.

Singh looks slightly annoyed. “I have another case, and I need you to work on it. You’re one of our best despite being rather new. The Brotherhood case is simple in comparison.”

Barry nods. “Yeah. Do you need me to go to a crime scene, or-?”

Singh opens his mouth. Barry’s phone rings again. “What is so important that someone would repeatedly call you like that, Allen?”  
“Um,” Barry starts. “well. She kind of thinks I’m trying to steal her boyfriend?”

Singh blinks. “Is she right?”

This isn’t how Barry imagined his day going. “...no.”

“That isn’t very reassuring, Allen.”

“I know, Captain.” His phone rings again. “In my defense, I’ve literally done nothing to suggest I’m trying to steal her boyfriend.”

Singh stares at him. “...turn your phone off and meet Joe downstairs.”

“Sure thing, Captain.”

As Singh walks out of his lab, he stands, stretching. Then he stops Constance’s call and instead texts Lisa. **Phase Three Complete.**

She texts back quickly.  **Good. It was so hard to talk about you giving us those kittens with a straight face.**

**I’m sure.** Barry texts.  **Talk to you later.**

He turns his phone off and shoves it in his pocket. Then he starts getting everything for the Brotherhood Case together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if anyone wants I would be willing to post a chapter chronicling the events of Phase 2 with Lisa. As a companion piece or something. Tell me what you think in the comments, though.


	11. Chapter 11

The next week drags on and on. It’s like everything is put on one-half of normal speed, and Barry’s the only one who notices it. Even though he’s stuck going just as slow as everybody else. His new case- a murder on Ferry Street (and doesn’t that sound like a children’s murder mystery book?)- takes up his time at work. And most the time he’d normally be at home. It isn’t until Friday that he actually wishes the week went _slower_. It starts with a phone call.

“Hey Iris. What’s up?” He asks, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he digs in his pockets for his house keys.

“Is it illegal to use your CSI stuff for non-police work?” She asks immediately.

“Um.” He blinks. “Well, I’m not sure. What happened?”

Iris sighs. “Well, my car has a flat tire. And it’s halfway off the rim like I ran into something, which I haven’t. And the headlight on the same side is shattered. It was fine yesterday. I don’t want to get the police involved in this though, It’s probably just some teenager who was dared to do it.”

“But you want to know who did it, and think I might be able to help.”

“Yes. Can you?” Iris asks. “Please? Because if it was a teen then I want to find them and talk to them. Find out why? I mean, I don’t see why else someone would have just broken my headlight and wheel, right? Nothing was even stolen.”

“Are you at your house now?” Barry asks.

“Yeah. I’d come and get you, but. Well.” Iris says. “You’ll come over right now?”

He shrugs even though she can’t see him. “Yeah, totally. I just need to grab some stuff from my house first. Which, luckily, I’m at right now.” At that, he finally gets the key in the lock and turns it.

He steps inside. “See you in like thirty minutes.” Opening the door, he’s greeted with Reeses attacking his leg. “I’m probably bringing Reeses. He’s been up my butt for days.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bar.”

* * *

 

With Reeses sitting on his shoulder, examining Iris’s car is… difficult, to say the least. But every time he takes the cat off his shoulder, he climbs right back up, claws and all. But, it’s pretty obvious to see that whoever vandalized her car was doing it purely for the fun of it. Nothing was stolen, nothing mean was written, nothing was left.

“Hey, Iris, I thought Raina and Bella were indoor cats?” He asks, moving a clump of grey cat fur out of the way with a gloved hand.

“They are. Why do you ask?” Iris crouches beside him.

He shrugs. “There’s quite a bit of cat fur, and it isn’t Reeses’. Did one of your cats get out today?”

“No? Definitely not. Bella got out like a month ago and hid in the lobby of my apartment for three hours because she was afraid to go out the doors.” She shrugs. “They don’t like being outside my apartment.”

“So maybe someone did leave evidence behind.” He mutters, and picks up the clump of gray hair. “I mean, this is definitely cat hair. I’ve seen enough in the last few months to know what it looks like.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors have cats. Or it’s from a stray cat. Why would someone leave cat hair behind?” Iris studies the fur. “Unless it was an accident.”

“You didn’t think the amount of fur was suspicious?” Barry asks.

“My neighbor has a gray cat. That cat is one of the meanest things I have ever met, let me tell you. Old, and extremely cranky.” Iris shrugs. “I’ve seen so much gray fur around I didn’t even think twice. Maybe my neighbor messed with my car.”

“Is he as cranky as his cat?”

“Actually he’s pretty nice. He’s like, forty years old, but I’ve heard him singing along to one of the songs from Pirates of the Caribbean. The pirate one.”

“Iris, I think all of the songs from those movies are pirate songs.”

She hits his shoulder. “Don’t patronize me. I realized what I said when I said it.”

Barry laughs. “Okay. Let me bring some of this to my lab to check out. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“Thanks Bar. I owe you one.” Iris hugs him, dislodging Reeses, who tumbles to the ground with an angry meow.

“You always owe me one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, it's been a while since I've updated. School definitely takes up a lot of time, I'll say that.  
> Anyway, cat-themed chapter, mostly because I wanted to dedicate something to my cat who we had to put down literally today, and who I already miss very much.  
> On the other hand, I'll definitely try to have the next chapter up by Wednesday.  
> Enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

“Hey, Barry. Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you until now.” Lisa says.

He sighs into the phone. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been busy. You too?”

Lisa laughs, but it sounds dejected. “I’ve been planning a funeral, so yeah.”

Barry’s eyes widen. “What? Who's?” He sets his packed lunch on his desk. “What happened?”

“Charlie found Munchkin on the side of the road a few days ago. She must have gotten hit by a car. Charlie’s devastated, and Georgie is pretty close to it. I suggested we should have a funeral for her, and the girls agreed.” Lisa takes in a shaky breath. “Honestly I can’t say I’m upset by the cat’s death, but it really hurts to see the girls so sad. The girls insisted I make a blanket to bury with Munchkin because she’s a Sphinx so I was up all night last night doing that.”

“Man, and I thought I was having a bad week.” Barry swallows. “You know, Munchkin was the first of the kittens I saw at the SPCA. I’d offer to come by but, well, that won’t go over well with Constance. How’s Mick doing?”

“He’s doing. He’s acting tough for the girls, but I think it’s affecting him a lot more than he’s letting on. Munchkin was his cat, after all. I can only imagine how I’d feel if Sheba died.” Lisa sighs. “Anyway, I’m having a little trouble with the next phase. Constance is… well, she’s as haughty as ever.”

“To be expected.” Barry sighs. “We can delay the plan for a bit. Let everyone mourn for Munchkin.”

“Thanks Barry.” Lisa hangs up.

Barry swallows. Oh, of course this had to happen. He’s not upset about the plan- no, not really. But he really liked Munchkin, even if he didn’t spend much time around the kitten. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?” He mutters aloud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a small chapter. It's important but isn't very long, unfortunately


	13. Chapter 13

When Barry was eight, his father died of lung cancer. He’d been devastated, an absolute inconsolable wreck. He’d watched his dad wither away into almost a skeleton, barely able to breath, always coughing. It hadn’t been sudden, and even as an eight year old he’d understood from the beginning that his father was going to die, and suffer every moment of it. There’d been no way for him to miss it.

He’d gone to therapy- first, just a simple grief counselor recommended by one of the nurses at the hospital. It was only supposed to be one or two sessions, recommended for every kid who lost a parent, or sibling, or anyone close to them.

It hadn’t worked.

Barry had cycled through dozens of counselors and psychologists, paid for by an increasingly concerned mother for her miserable, angry, reckless son. He’d ignored them. Yelled at them. Lied, tricked, behaved in exactly the right way to get rid of them.

He’d hated them all.

They’d pretended, behind fake smiles, to care about his problems. They’d acted like they wanted to help him, like they cared about his father’s death. But every one of them had tried to force him to talk, force him listen, force him to do this and that and a thousand other things he was never ready for. One counselor tried to bribe him with candy to talk about the last thing his dad said to him. Another wanted him to draw a picture about how he felt. Another stared at him in hopes he’d become too afraid of the silence he’d speak.

Barry had just wanted to be left alone.

So, he’d put on a mask. He’d pretended just like the counselors. He’d laughed, he’d played, he’d smiled, he’d “confessed”. It had all been a lie, of course. But the counselors had believed every bit of it. His mother had, too, and had started to smile more as he did. Barry took his anger medicine, the only part of everything he even remotely liked. He’d pretended to be scared when Tony Woodward attacked him, both verbally and physically.

Anything to make people stop watching him with worry written on their faces. To make people stop prying, stop pretending. To make his mom happy again. To be able to be alone with his thoughts. Barry had never found his father’s death to be any easier to think about. Not after months, years. He pretended, though, put a smile on his face even as his chest felt like it was caving in under a thousand rocks.

The only person he could never lie to was Iris. His best friend, his sister, his second half. She never believed his lie. But she never pushed, like the counselors, only asked. Only waited until he wanted to speak and always was ready with a hug and a shoulder to lean on.

Of course she’d been through her own grief- her mother had died only a year before his father, in childbirth. She’d lost a mother and gained a brother, and she’d had no problems going to Barry for help whenever she needed. She’d been stronger than him, handling her grief. She’s hated the counselors almost as much as he came to, but she’d got what she needed from them and been done.

When Barry was eight, his world had tipped upside down. He’d lost his father, his protector. He’d lost himself, really, and never completely got it all back. Not the same, at least. He’d lost his fear, leaving it with his father’s corpse in a grave in the ground. He’d lost innocence, staring into the eyes of a counselor who was only concerned with money and couldn’t have cared less about a little boy. He’d lost his calm contentment with life, replaced with anger that burned in his blood. He’d lost honesty, thrown away in an attempt be left alone.

Thirteen years later and Barry is just as fucked up as always, grappling with a woman fucked up in a completely different way to exist in the same place, around the same people. As always, he puts a smile on his face and a spring in his step. As always, the thoughts in his head contrast with the mask that greets everyone. As always, Barry is angry and sad and unflinching.

As always, Barry is just as patient as he needs to be.


	14. Chapter 14

The woman steps onto the street, making sure to keep her expensive shoes from being soiled in any puddles. She straightens her blue skirt, holding it in position as wind blows across the street.  _ It’s such a terrible day for walking _ , she thinks. But of course nobody could give her a ride today, all too busy with their own business. The gray, dreary sky matches the gray, dreary people that brave the streets.  _ At least it isn’t raining anymore. _

She hoists her shopping bags- full of expensive clothing, of course- to her shoulders and trundles towards home. She’d much rather walk the way than take a dirty bus or cab. Wind buffets her face. She scowls as she nearly trips over her skirt, and for once regrets her fashion choice. No more long skirts on windy days.

She makes it most the way home before anything stops her. It’s a noise in an alley as she passes by, loud enough to draw her attention but soft enough to keep any other person on the street from noticing. She looks over, grimacing at the piles of garbage bags in the alley. The pretty pair of shoes sitting on top of one might be salvageable, though.

With another cursory glance around for whatever might have made the noise (a stray cat or dog, probably. The mangy things) she steps over to the shoes. The rose-red heels would go perfectly with her red dress, after a bit of cleaning. She grabs them with two fingers.

A hand wraps around her mouth. She screams, dropping the heels. The heel-tips rip the bag as they hit it, but her mind is on an entirely different matter than shoes, now. She tries to scream, but the hand muffles the sound. She gets pulled into the shadows of the alley, hidden by view of the street. Her captor forces her through an open door.

She stares into a washed-out room, devoid of signs of living. Except a table and two chairs. Not even a window. The door slams shut behind them. The hands let go. She whips around. Her shopping bags hit the ground.

A thud.

A gasp. 

A grin.

A man.

“‘Ello, Bunny.” The man says. “Been awhile, ‘asn’t it? Figured your taste in fashion ‘asn’t changed, an’ guess I was right, yeah?”

“Why on  _ earth  _ have you kidnapped me?” Her voice comes out as barely a squeak. “It’s been nearly five years and then you  _ kidnap  _ me? For what, Malachai?”

“I missed ya, Bunny. E'rything’s borin wi’out ya, ya know. ‘An I dunno your number anymore, ya musta got it changed, yeah? But I been watchin for ya for awhile, lookin to find ya, an’ then whaddya know, I see ya walkin down the street wi’ a thousand shoppin bags an’ just knew I ‘ad my chance. Sorry ‘bout the shoes though Bunny, didn’ mean for ya to drop ‘em into the garbage.” Malachai’s grin doesn’t go away. “Knew ya wouldn’t wanna talk to me if I jus’ walked up to ya, so.”

Her body trembles. She steps back as he steps forward. “What on earth do you want to talk to me about?” 

Malachai’s eyes glint dangerously. “Never said I wan’ed to talk. Jus’ said ya wouldn’t.” He spreads his arms wide. “‘An’ I won’ make ya talk if ya don’ wanna.”

“Please let me leave, Malachai.” She whispers. “I left for a reason. You’re deranged, a psychopath-”

“‘An your jus’ the same, Bunny.” He steps closer. “Maybe not as willin’ to hurt someone as me, sure, but ya’ve got jus’ as much crazy in ya as I do in me. We match, yeah?”

He steps forward again. She steps back. He tilts his head. She steps back again.

“Now come on, Bunny. Don’ be like tha’.”

“I’ll be like however I want to be.” She says.

He laughs. “Ya, tha’s righ’. Ya jus’ love bein’ a prickly pear, throwin’ insul’s at everyone who pisses ya off. Bein’ childish an’ shallow.” He steps forward again. “Leas’ I can actually stand t’ be around ya. Mos’ jus’ barely tolerate ya.”

She takes another step back, only to suddenly find herself falling to the floor as her heels catch on her skirt. Arms wrap around her just before she hits the ground.

“Now, now, Bunny. Can’ ‘ave ya fallin’ for me like tha’. You’ll ‘urt yourself.” Malachai says into her ear. He pushes blond hair away. “Ya know, I think I liked ya better wi’ black ‘air. We’ll jus’ ‘afta do somethin’ about that, yeah?” 

She swallows. “Please let me go.”

The arms wrap tighter around her. “Never.”


	15. Chapter 15

Barry walks by Joe’s desk just in time to hear an address. An address he recognizes, of course. He hadn’t even been paying attention as he walked by, too busy thinking about how Saffron and Faron had gotten into the bag of cat food he had and got the little kibble pieces  _ everywhere _ . He probably wouldn’t have heard Detective Dibny tell Joe the address if he hadn’t already known it, really.

It isn’t exactly a good thing that he freezes and whips around to face the two, either. Because, after all, they aren’t supposed to know he knows that address, or anyone associated with it, and now the plan is definitely all wonky  _ because he isn’t supposed to know that address. _

The two detectives look at him. “You alright Barry?” Dibny asks.

“What were you two just talking about?” He asks, trying to school his features without looking like that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

They exchange a glance. “Missing person’s report.” Joe answers. “Woman didn’t come home yesterday, boyfriend called it in about ten minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Barry says. “What was the address? I thought I recognized it…” He swallows.

Dibny recites the address easily.

Barry shakes his head. “Oh, ok, I heard wrong. I was kind of worried for a moment.” He still is. Very worried, actually. “Do you have any leads yet?”

Dibny snorts. “It’s been ten minutes, Barry. We only know the names of the people living in the house.”

“I am suspicious of the boyfriend, though.” Joe adds. “She didn’t come home last night but it isn’t called in until today? At noon?”

“Maybe he thought she went to a bar. Or something.” Barry adds at Joe’s look. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Barry? Something to be doing?” Dibny crosses his arms. “If we need you, we’ll get you.”

“Right.” Barry says. He blinks, then practically teleports up the stairs with how fast he moves. The door to his lab slams shut behind him. He kicks the chair at his desk, barely suppressing a scream. Luckily nobody was waiting for him in the lab or things would be pretty suspicious.

“Great, this is just great. They’re going to investigate- of  _ course  _ they will, that’s what police  _ do-  _ and then they’ll realize I’m connected to the place, and then  _ I’ll  _ be a suspect. Everything is just going to hell, really.” He continues muttering angrily, pacing around his lab with the occasional kick to an appliance. He pulls his phone out and dials Lisa’s number.

“Hello?” She answers.

“I hear Constance has gone missing.” Barry says flatly.

There’s a pause. “Yes. We don’t know what happened.”

“Well, why did the police find out before I did?” He glances at the door, still tightly shut.

“Things have been kind of busy, Barry. Mick called Len this morning, and Len told me about an hour ago. We’ve been trying to get ahold of her, but... “ Lisa trails off. “This isn’t the first time she hasn’t come around when she was supposed to. Mick wasn’t sure if she just got drunk or something, but Constance was out shopping. She would have at least brought her clothes home before going to a bar.”

Barry shakes his head even though Lisa can’t see it. “Yeah, well, I really hope you guys have a story picked out and plenty of evidence to back it up because if anyone here finds out I know you guys-” He stops. “The next step would be how, and how long, until things look awfully suspicious for me. I broke up with my boyfriend the same time Constance came into town. She’s dating someone… I know said someone. Now she’s missing.”

“Barry there’s practically nothing to even suggest you might have done something.” Lisa’s breath comes through the phone. “You didn’t, did you?”

He frowns. “No, of course not. I’m not a murderer.”

“Just checking. You can be kind of scary sometimes, Barry.” Lisa huffs a laugh.

“I can?”

“Yes, you can. You get this little glint in your eye.” Lisa huffs a laugh. “So yeah, of course I’m checking. You know, old boyfriend comes back to haunt a relationship.”

Barry snorts. “Yeah, well. I already am doing that. But I haven’t touched Constance.” He finally sinks into his desk chair. “I don’t know her habits well enough to make her disappear.”

“You know that doesn’t make you sound any more innocent, right? Like, ‘I would murder them, but I don’t have a gun powerful enough.’ Barry, really?”

“I didn’t mean that at all and you know it. I’m not going to kill someone, and I’m not going to be an old ex that’s come back-” He freezes. “Oh damn.”

Instantly Lisa’s voice tenses. “What?”

“Old boyfriend.”

“So?”

“When I was looking into Constance- to figure out the best way to plan to get rid of her- I, well, I checked into her past, obviously.” Barry glances out the window. “Constance lived in Portland before she came back here. She had a boyfriend. I… I contacted him, asking about her.”

“You don’t think he kidnapped her?”

“I don’t know. He seemed excited to hear about her.”

“What was his name?”

“Malachai.”

“Did you tell him where she is?” Lisa presses.

“No, of course not. I didn’t even tell him my name.”

“Then how did you get him to tell you anything?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Lying, obviously. I told him I was a detective, yadda yadda yadda. He believed me, in any case.”

“Clearly too much. You think he thinks he’s doing the world a favor by getting rid of her?” Lisa asks.

“That’s if this is him at all. I didn’t give him a clue of where to find her.” Barry shrugs. “Then again-” The door opens. He ends the call.

“Barry, we need to go.” Joe says, barely stepping into the lab.

“Where?” He stands.

“That missing person’s case. We need a CSI to check the house out.” Joe turns to leave. “Come on.”

Barry ignores the fire in his stomach as he follows Joe. “Can’t anyone else go?”

Joe looks sideways at him. “Why are you acting so weird about this?”

Barry blinks. “Am I?”

“Yes, Barry, you are.” Joe shakes his head.

“Guess I’m having a bad day.” Barry hides his sudden smile. Or urge to, anyway. “Uh, Iris and I are still trying to figure out what happened to her car and it’s getting pretty annoying. Looks like a cat smashed into her car- well, the other way around- except the only cat around with gray fur is definitely still alive and unharmed. Iris didn’t crash her car or hit anything, so vandalism… except we can’t prove anything.”

“And that’s what’s getting to you today.” Joe says, doubtful.

“Definitely.” He presses the elevator button. “It looks like sabotage, to be honest. Except I don’t know who would want to sabotage Iris’s car, you know? And who would go through the trouble of sprinkling cat hair all over.”

“Well, Barry, if you want I’ll make Ralph investigate.” Joe smirks at him. “You two get along so well.”

Barry shudders exaggeratedly. “Yeah, I’m good. We’ll deal.”

Joe laughs. Barry grins.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Another update!  
> We're getting closer to the end, folks. Hope you enjoy!

“The Lion and the Wolf” by Thrice plays over the radio as they head to Rory’s Repair Shop. Barry sits uncomfortably in the back of the police cruiser, as the front seats were taken by Joe and Detective Chyre. His CSI kit rests on the seat beside him. He’s really not looking forward to seeing Mick, for once. He leans his head back on the seat and lets the song overtake him.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Joe’s voice cuts through the fog in his head. “Barry, are you alright?”

He blinks, wiping his face. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Chyre frowns at him. “Well, son, we’re here. Why don’t you take a moment to yourself while we go talk to the residents, alright?”

Barry nods. “Okay.” He sits in silence as the two detectives exit the car. And after. Without music to augment them, the tears stop. The blank feeling doesn’t disappear, however, and he sits in the car for about ten minutes trying to wait it out.

Finally, though, he drags himself from the seat and through the enormous open shop garage doors. He hovers beside Joe, half-listening to the conversation between the detectives and Mick. His eyes are on the only car in the shop- a sleek black lexus. His brain works on autopilot.

“Who’s car is that?” He asks. The three men pause in their conversation.

“Connie’s.” Mick grunts.

Right. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Course not.” Mick shrugs. “Dunno what you’re lookin’ for, though.”

He blinks slowly. “Anything out of the ordinary.” It’s funny how easily he can put on a mask, now, and be ordinary Barry Allen, CSI, working a normal missing persons case. He walks over to the car.

He checks the condition robotically- he isn’t a mechanic, of course, but he knows when things are obviously not right. The car is almost supernaturally clean, on the inside and the outside, and he turns back to the three men still stuck in investigation. “Is it in here because it’s broken? I don’t see why a car in perfect shape would be in a mechanic’s shop even if it is the owner’s.”

Mick looks at him blandly. “Eh. It’s been broken for most the week, won’t drive. Only just got to fixin’ it. Been busy. That’s why Connie was walking instead of driving yesterday.”

Barry turns back to the car, about ready to ask another question about how it got broken, when something catches his eye. Something red on the silvery metal of the tire rim. He crouches. His heart beats faster, the way it always does when he catches a clue on a case. Blood, or at least it looks like blood, covers a tiny portion of the rim. He grins.

Before long he has a sample safely in his kit and plenty of pictures of the car for later review. Not that he thinks the car actually had anything to do with Constance’s disappearance, but the blood is certainly interesting. What, exactly, is Constance hiding? He doubts Mick knows about the blood, or else he would have said something. Probably.

He joins the questioning. Chyre glances at him. “Alright, we’re going to need to take a look inside your house. I’m sure you understand, Mr. Rory.”

“‘Course.” Mick grunts. “Just go on ahead, I need to close the garage doors.”

Joe pats Barry’s shoulder. “Stay with him.” He mutters, and he and Chyre make their way to Mick’s front door.

Barry turns to Mick. He’s honestly tried his best to not look at the man throughout this whole ordeal but now he can’t help himself. He watches sullenly as Mick presses and holds the buttons to close the giant doors. “How have you been?” He asks quietly. He doesn’t want Joe or Chyre to accidentally overhear.

Mick faces him. For a moment- no, an eternity, because that’s exactly what it feels like- an eternity where they both stand on opposite ends of a chasm, neither speaks. Then Mick slides his hand into his pocket and when he takes it out he’s right in front of Barry, having moved the distance without Barry noticing a single step.

Something red and gold dangles in front of his face.

He tries to focus on it, but that means taking his gaze away from Mick’s face and he doesn’t want to look away, not ever again. The red and gold moves away. Barry yanks his gaze down as something touches his hand. Mick’s hand gently unfolds the fist Barry wasn’t aware he’d been making and places the red and gold on top of it.

A necklace. Beautiful, really, with deep red gemstones intertwined in a gold chain. “What’s this for?” He asks. His voice is barely a whisper.

“Saw it months ago. Thought of you.” Mick’s breath moves the hair on his head in a warm gust.

“How much did it cost?” He wraps his fingers around the necklace. “Or did you steal it?”

Mick shakes his head. Barry looks up at the motion. “Didn’t steal it, an’ the cost ain’t a problem.”

“Mick…” He swallows. Barry tears himself away. “We shouldn’t stay here any longer. It’d be suspicious.”

Mick’s only answer is a grunt. It isn’t much, but Barry loves him for it. 


	17. Chapter 17

Barry chews absentmindedly on the end of a lollipop stick. He’s staring at the results of the blood test from the blood on Constance’s car. Cat blood. On one hand, he’s glad it isn’t Constance’s blood (if only so Mick isn’t more of a suspect). On the other hand, the fact that cat’s blood is on Constance’s car makes him queasy. After all, Munchkin had been hit by a car. He’s starting to think it was Constance’s car, now. And the mystery of Iris’s car is starting to come together… then again, it’s one thing to accidentally run over your kid’s cat and pretend someone else did. It’s another to try to frame someone almost completely unrelated to the situation.

A knock on the (open) door gets his attention. Joe walks in. “You figure out who’s blood was on the victim’s car?”

Barry sighs. “Cat blood.”

“Cat blood?” Joe frowns. “Well, that makes things easier, then.”

Barry sits up straight. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, that old boyfriend of Constance’s that Georgia mentioned, Malachai Wiater?” Joe stops at the end of his desk. “We looked into him.”

Everything flips upside down. Joe keeps talking, but everything is muted as it reaches his ears. _Notgoodnotgoodnotgood…_ He tries to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat, to no avail. Of course this would come back to him. Sure, he came after Constance, but only because Barry told him where she was. Indirectly. Except now he’s the reason someone’s gone missing, and said missing person is someone he hates-

He abruptly snaps back into focus. “So when are you going to check Wiater out?”

Joe looks at him quizzically. “Now, Barry. I just told you Chyre and I were going to his house.”

“You know where he lives?” Barry asks.

“Yes, Barry. I just told you. He moved to Central City a month ago.” Joe turns. “I’ll go tell Chyre the blood was a dead end.”

Something settles in Barry’s chest. “I want to come with you.” He blurts. “So I can do my thing, I mean. Same as at the Rory house.”

Joe doesn’t stop walking out the door. “Okay, Baer. Grab your kit.”

Barry’s heart thuds in his chest as he follows Joe to the police cruiser. Once inside, the same uncomfortable feeling as before returns. There’s even a song on the radio that makes the feeling worse. He doesn’t know the name of this one. It has the same haunting feeling, though. A little more upbeat.

“It there a reason you insist on listening to weird songs?” He says awkwardly. Chyre glances back at him in the backseat. “And at least two have had something to do with wolves, this one included.”

“Honestly I don’t pay attention to the music.” Chyre chuckles. “If it’s bothering you I’ll change it. Or turn it off.”

Barry smiles uneasily. “Okay, but if the next one has to do with wolves too I’m taking it as a sign. I’ll never go to a zoo again.” Joe snorts.

The lyrics switch halfway through a stanza.

_The wolves that surround me_

_The eye of the storm_

_Defends me, declaws me-_

 

_-Run, run for my life_

_Run from the shadows_

_The demons and strife_

Barry actually recognizes the new song- it’s from the band Council of Wells. He doesn’t recognize the actual song, though, but he has half the mind to tell Chyre just to turn the radio off anyway because the song isn’t exactly helping his mood. He doesn’t, and instead tries to tune it out.

He watches the streets go by out the window. They’re mostly barren of people, probably because of the wind. A stray dog barks at the cruiser as they go by. A recently broken into shop has a tarp covering the enormous front window that waves wildly in the wind, despite being secured by all sides. Finally, finally, they pull into a small parking lot. He unbuckles in the backseat and stretches.

“Alright. Barry, I want you to stay in the cruiser until we decide we need you. We may decide we don’t, too. Either way, you’re staying here until one of us comes and gets you, alright?” Joe gives him a hard look. “Shoving a CSI is his face will only make him nervous and we need this to go as smoothly as possible, just in case he is our guy.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Right, because two detectives showing up at his door won’t freak him out at all. The CSI will.” He smirks. “Let me talk to him first.” When Joe opens his mouth to object, he continues. “Really. I’m just a CSI. Less of a threat in the personal way, right? Supposedly. He’ll feel less threatened if I go to talk to him- after all I need my kit to do anything, and I won’t even bring that.”

“That’s a terrible idea, Barry. And most of what you said is false.” Chyre shakes his head.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.” With that, Barry pops the door open and slides out. “If anything, I’ll have the same results as if you went to the door first.”

He shuts the door without waiting for an answer and is pleasantly satisfied when neither of the detectives open their own doors. Joe does glare at him, though. With a fake smile plastered on his face he walks up to the apartment lobby door and walks in. He greets the man at the front desk with his badge. Well, laminate.

“Hi, I’m Barry Allen with the CCPD. I’m looking for Malachai Wiater, is he here?” He leans casually on the desk.

The man- his name tag says Adrian- shrugs vaguely. “Yeah. What do you need him for?”

“That’s CCPD business, but don’t worry. You don’t have to evacuate the building or anything.” Barry copies Adrian’s shrug. “So, what apartment is he in?”

“C12.” Adrian holds out an elevator card. “You’ll need to swipe this in the elevator.”

Barry grabs the card and prances to the elevator. During the ride up he has a sudden realization that maybe he should have at least asked Joe for a gun, because he’s very certain Malachai did something to Constance and he really doesn’t want to be defenseless in the same apartment as the man. Oh well.

He knocks on the door and waits. After a few moments the door opens just enough for an eye to poke through the gap. The smell of air freshener wafts out. He tries not to crinkle his nose. “Malachai Wiater?” He says.

“Can I ‘elp ya?” Malachai asks. “Eh- do I know ya? Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Nope, we’ve never met. Should we have?” Barry smiles innocently. “I’m here to investigate the disappearance of Constance Ritchett. I’m with the CCPD.”

“Are ya? Haven’t seen ‘er.” Malachai doesn’t open the door any wider.

“Well, considering you moved to the exact same city she did _from the other side of the country,_ I’m going to have to disagree.” Barry puts his hand on the door. “Now, if you’d let me in, we should talk.”

Malachai’s eye narrows. “Ya know what? I do know ya. We talked o’er the phone. About ‘er.” The door opens. The smell of air freshener gets stronger. “I dunno why you’re lyin’, but I bet it has somethin’ to do with Bunny, too.”

Barry steps inside slowly. The overwhelming smells of oranges, pumpkin spice, pine tree, and countless others assault his nose. The apartment itself is a fair size. He can really only see the living room and part of the kitchen, though. The lump in his throat gets bigger. “So, when was the last time you saw Constance?” He asks, turning back to Malachai.

The man tilts his head. “Eh. Ya know, I gotta say it wasn’ tha’ long ago. Maybe… ‘bout five minutes ago.” He grins.

A rock drops into Barry’s stomach. “You know, most people don’t confess to a crime that quickly.”

“Who says I confessed?” Malachai circles him slowly, like a predator. “Jus’ said I jus’ saw ‘er. Maybe I ‘ad ‘er o’er for tea.”

“I doubt a missing person would randomly go to her ex’s house for tea.” Barry keeps his voice flat. He isn’t scared- he doesn’t _get_ scared- but he wants to keep as much control in this situation as possible.

Malachai laughs. “Ah, an’ I doubt you’re really with the CCPD. After all, ya tell me o’er the phone you’re a detective, yeah? Now ya’ve got a laminate tha’ says you’re a CSI, an’ it’s got a different name than th’ one ya gave me o’er the phone.”

“I assure you, I’m with the CCPD. And if you try anything you will be arrested. Immediately.” Barry steps back as Malachai suddenly stalks forward. “Actually, you’ll be arrested either way, considering your guilt in the disappearance of Constance Ritchett.”

Malachai stops only inches away from him. They stare eye to eye. Black to green. They’re the same height, Barry notices. And nearly the same build. Malachai tilts his head, a leer forming on his lips. In contrast, Barry keeps his head high. A flat look finds its way to his face.

“Tell me where Constance is.” Barry says. His voice is the same as his face- flat, unemotional.

“In th’ bedroom.” Malachai answers. “I wouldn’ call for ‘er. She won’ ‘ear ya. Ever” He takes a step back. The leer doesn’t disappear. “Wanna look?”

Barry breath in. Breaths out. “No, I believe you.”

“Ya sure? Cause I’m pretty sure ya won’ like wha’ comes next. If ya wanna take a look ya’ll ‘ave extra time to live.”

“Who says I’ll be dying today?” Barry takes the step forward this time. He keeps his eyes locked with Malachai’s. “I have plenty of a mean streak.”

Malachai laughs, head thrown back, and all Barry can think of is a hyena laughing hysterically. “Well then. Guess we’ll ‘ave to see who’s got more o’ the devil inside ‘im, yeah?”

The fight starts. The silver-gray of a knife cuts through the air. Barry dodges. Malachai swings again. Barry jumps back. His own fist surges forward. Misses. Pain erupts in his leg. It must have been kicked. Blood pounds in his ears. His breaths tear raggedly from his throat. Punch. Dodge. Breath. Kick. A howl of pain. Blood.

At some point he becomes aware of laughter. Terrible, terrible laughter. It matches the look in Malachai’s eyes. The leer on his face. Barry swings his fist at the face in front of him. It connects with a crack. Blood spurts everywhere. Over his fingers. On the floor. He swings again. Another crack. More blood. This time it was Malachai’s jaw.

The knife aims for his chest. Barry lurches back. It slices a gash in his skin. The breath disappears from his body. He clutches at his chest. Blood seeps through his fingers. He grits his teeth and dodges another attack. Barry’s never felt so _alive_. A kick has him falling back into a shelf. His head slams into something. His fingers grasp for traction. They’re slick with blood. He slips to the floor. Malachai descends on him, kicking, punching.

He coughs. Distantly, thudding not belonging to the fight registers in his brain. He spits blood from his mouth and swings his legs. One connects with something,. Yet another crack echoes through the apartment. Malachai staggers. Everything slows. He breathes unevenly. Blood is all he can taste. He stands, still holding his wounded chest. Black meets green.

Barry wants that knife.

With a yell he launches himself at Malachai. They hit the floor. His hands reach for the knife. Malachai holds it tightly. They roll. Blood. Blood is everywhere. He doesn’t care. He wants the knife. His hand closes around the blade and more blood spills onto the previously white carpet. A laugh startles its way from his throat.

Barry’s holding the knife. Malachai’s holding the knife. Who’s laughing? He doesn’t know. It should be Malachai. It sounds like him. The man was already laughing. Yet his own chest shakes. His teeth grind together.

Another crack. This time he knows exactly what happened. His other hand, the free one. It wrapped around Malachai’s wrist and broke it. How? He doesn’t care. He has the knife. There are teeth in his arm. Malachai’s. He uses it to slam Malachai’s head into the floor. That’s how Joe and Chyre find them when they finally have the sense to shoot the lock and force the door open. One man on top of the other, both bloody and beaten, both laughing. They aren’t nice laughs.

He doesn’t feel bad, though. About the fight. About the blood. About the laughter. He did what he had to do. He didn’t kill Malachai. He didn’t die himself. When the ambulance arrives he lets himself be loaded into the back. They don’t cuff him like they do Malachai.

He’s in shock, they say. That’s what happens, they say. Barry doesn’t feel shocked. He feels alive. He’s tired. He’s too tired to put on the mask he always uses. At some point he falls asleep, staring at the still form of Malachai in the stretcher across from him.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

He spends two weeks in the hospital. Mick visits, saying he just wants to thank the man who almost died finding his girlfriend. Barry knows he’s lying, and calls him out for it. Usually by kissing him.

Neither of them wanted Constance dead, despite their dislike of the woman. Dead. She was found in the bedroom, just like Malachai said. Dead. Barry didn’t like her. Hated her, wanted her gone. But not dead, never dead. Mick might have been forced into a relationship with her for the second time but even he didn’t want her to die.

Barry tells Mick he’s sorry for Georgie and Charlie. Mick shrugs. He finds out later that the girls are in the same boat as everyone else, despite being Constance’s daughters. They didn’t care for her like a mother because she didn’t care for them like daughters. They never wanted her dead. They aren’t upset she isn’t around any more.

Iris visits too, bringing Barry’s favorite snacks and sometimes Wally and Sophia. The first time she cries about his near death experience. Every time after she demands the whole store. Barry tells. He’ll never tell his mom or Joe, but Iris? Iris is his sister, and siblings have a special bond.

Joe and his mom come once, to make sure he’s alright. He smiles, tells them he’s never felt better. Emotionally, at least. It’s true. They don’t visit again. He doesn’t blame them. They’re busy people. He’s an adult. He’ll live.

Lisa visits a lot, more than anyone else. They talk about their plan, what went wrong, what went right. He spends a lot of time regretting ever talking to Malachai. The plan would have been good. Constance would have had to leave. Mick would have gotten Georgie and Charlie. He would have gotten Mick. Mostly the same as how things actually went, although more death actually took place than was planned. Near the end of Barry’s hospital stay Lisa shows up with two extras trailing behind her. She introduces them. Barry decides he really liker her boyfriend and girlfriend. Cisco and Cindy are a match made in heaven, really, and adding Lisa makes the perfect storm. In a good way, of course. Cisco’s a scientist like him, specializing in mechanical engineering. Cindy is a martial arts fighter. Lisa shows him some of her fights. Barry asks for lessons.

He goes home with some brand new scars. His cats don’t care, far too happy to finally see him again instead of Iris or Lisa, who had both taken it upon themselves to make sure his cats got taken care of while he was in the hospital. It’s nice to sleep in his own bed. He hangs the red gemstone necklace Mick got him- as well as the two bracelets with onyx gems Mick had given him during his hospital stay- in front of the window in his bedroom. The sunlight makes them glow.

Eventually the mask returns, and he returns to work, and he’s happy Barry Allen, CSI, again. His coworkers look at him differently now. He’s sure none of them know the whole story, all of the truth. Nobody does, because Barry hadn’t told it. Of course he’d told how Malachai had confessed, then threatened, and then fought. He tells how he’d known from the moment Malachai opened the door he’d been in the right place. He’d been ready for the fight. He doesn’t say anything about the freedom he’d felt during the whirlwind of pain and blood. He says nothing about his laughter that had calmed and stopped not longer after Joe and Chyre had pried them apart from each other. He says nothing about how much he’d wanted the knife, not just to keep it from going into himself but to be the powerful one in the fight. To be dangerous.

The mask is up, the lie is told, and Barry doesn’t mind the looks of sympathy. He doesn’t mind the new appreciation he has, having held his own- _won-_ a fight with a killer. Fists against a knife. He simply slips back into the persona he’s always upheld at the precinct. Nobody notices. Or, if they do, they don’t say anything.

Barry testifies at Malachai’s trial. He lies a lot, says he has no idea what he’s talking about when Malachai says they talked before, over the phone. He lies about knowing Constance, and Mick, and everything else about the situation that he didn’t ever want anyone finding out about anyway. But he makes sure the man gets put away. He is a criminal, after all. A killer. He’d nearly killed Barry, and laughed all the while.

Barry finds himself satisfied. He has an ever-growing collection of jewelry, courtesy of Mick. He doesn’t usually wear jewelry, but every time Mick presents him with another, saying how he couldn’t help himself, it compliments his features just so, he just wants Barry to _have_ it, he’s a little more tempted.

A month later, Barry curls up in bed beside Mick and closes his eyes. Mick wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer. “Love you.” Barry whispers.

“Love you.” Mick says back.

“Mick?” Barry asks a few minutes later.

Mick grunts sleepily. “Hm?”

Barry sighs into Mick’s chest. “Whenever I’m around other people, or alone, I just feel tired. Dead on my feet. You… you make me come alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's the end! I hope you liked this story, and if you did, you can look forward to a sequel. I'll be uploading another companion piece later tonight as well

**Author's Note:**

> So I'll update tags and ratings as the story progresses, because right now some of that is pretty vague.


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